


Hit the Ground

by zahnie



Series: Amnesia [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Amnesia, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, Hospitals, M/M, Minor Injuries, Multi, Temporary Amnesia, she'll be okay in the end promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 15:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahnie/pseuds/zahnie
Summary: Parker wakes up in the hospital with amnesia.





	Hit the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> _Because falling's not the problem,_  
>  _When I'm falling, I'm at peace,_  
>  _It's only when I hit the ground it causes all the grief._  
>  \--[Falling by Florence + the Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQt6RKbYTPI)
> 
> Set post-canon Leverage.
> 
> I wrote a Hardison-amnesia fic last month called [Be Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957243) for greenmonstermash's birthday and I would like to thank everybody for their kudos and comments there! And obviously a huge thank you to greenmonstermash for brainstorming and being sooo excited for this fic to exist <3
> 
> Idk if I'm going to do an Eliot-amnesia fic but then again, I didn't think I was going to do this one until a few weeks ago when it just started happening.
> 
> Playlist [here](http://zahnie.tumblr.com/post/176170284390/playlist-for-parker-amnesia-fic). Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: added to series so it's easy to find all my Leverage amnesia fics but they're still stand-alone and can be read in any order

It's the wrong place.

Her hands slip (they never slip). She loses her grip (she never loses her grip).

She falls.

She always falls.

She wants to fall every time (she doesn't want to now). She makes it safe to fall (it isn't safe).

She cries out and that breaks everything apart.

“Parker! Parker, it's okay, you're okay!” Somebody there, yelling. A man. She hits out blindly. More hands on her, more voices. She opens her eyes so she can see how to get away.

White walls, small room. She sees the partly open door and lunges toward it. Something rips out of her arm and it _hurts_. Something else is beeping loudly.

“Parker!” The man still holding her is strong and fast but she's faster. She's on her feet, ducking out of his grip. She runs out of the room.

Her bare feet don't make a noise on the linoleum but there's nowhere to hide in the bright hallway. It's a hospital. Her arm is bleeding. She holds it bent against her chest and runs. Her clothes hardly cover anything. The wind of running makes them billow around her. It's a hospital gown.

People in loose shirts and pants that match (nurses) and people in white coats (doctors) try to stop her. She can't be stopped. She can hear the man calling out behind her. She runs faster, finds an empty stairwell, and goes up.

When she pushes through into the next floor up, the hallway is clear around her. She ducks into a room. As she comes in, the old woman in the closer bed jumps and says, “Oh my! Are you all right, dear?”

She ignores her and pulls the dresser drawers open one-handed, pressing her injured arm into her stomach to keep the pressure on it steady. Clothes inside. She grabs the darkest.

“What are you doing?” the old woman asks.

Pulling the hospital gown off is much easier that getting the new clothes on, even though they are too big for her. She finds bandages on her head while changing. No time to explore them. She has to get out now.

The men who call her Parker are waiting outside the room. She freezes with her back against the closed door.

“Hey, Parker, it's okay,” the black man says. “I don't know what was so bad about that room but we won't go back, okay, babe?” He's nervous or worried or something. The white man just looks at her.

Neither of them try to grab her again. That's good. She takes a deep breath.

Then the questions start. Who are they? Why is she in the hospital? What happened to her? It's like standing still has reminded her how to think for real.

She blurts out the most important question: “How did you find me?”

The black man makes a face she doesn't understand. “Years of knowing you?” he says, like it's a question. The white man narrows his eyes.

“I don't know you,” she says.

They both gasp at the same time. Her own chest tightens like her body wants to gasp too. It's weird.

“Do you know what happened?” the white man asks.

“Seriously, you don't remember us?” the black man asks at the same time.

“No,” she says, answering both of them.

There's a clatter of people down the hallway. The white man looks over his shoulder, then back to them. “We should get out of here now if we're going,” he says.

The black man shakes his head. “Any kind of amnesia is _way_ too big for us to handle without some kind of medical professionals, baby.”

Her head hurts. Amnesia means no memories. Maybe she lost them when she fell. Unless that was a dream.

“Parker, do you want to stay in the hospital?” the white man asks her.

“No,” she says.

The black man sighs and says, “Fine. Well, if we're going to do this... do you remember how to drive?” He asks her the last part.

“Hardison, no,” the white man says.

“Yes,” she says. Cars are faster than running. Farther away and faster are what she needs right now.

“This is a terrible idea,” the white man says, but maybe just to himself.

“If you drive, can we come with you and tell you where to go?” the black man asks. “We have a restaurant. All public, promise. And Eliot will bandage you up there and everything.”

“I would anyway,” the white man mutters. He must be named Eliot then.

She thinks about it. They seem like they do know her. And if they're lying, at least she'll be out in the world, not being chased by doctors around an enclosed space.

She can get away from them if she has to.

“Okay,” she says.

The black man smiles. It's like the sun coming out. “Okay,” he repeats.

As the three of them climb down the stairs to the main floor, the black man asks, “What's the last thing you remember?”

Nothing. She knows _about_ things: stairs, railings, hospitals, restaurants. She knows how to do things: run, open doors, and maybe drive. If she can't drive, she won't go with them.

“Oh, um, I'm Hardison,” the black man says, half-turning. He's ahead of her on the stairs with the white man following them. “Alec Hardison. But you usually call me Hardison.”

He's looking up into her face and she sees his foot miss the next stair down. Without thinking, she grabs Hardison's arm as he stumbles. He makes a little surprised noise, eyes wide. She pulls him back. He doesn't fall.

She is strong. That's good to know.

“Thanks,” Hardison breathes. His eyes are deep enough to get lost in.

“Careful,” Eliot says. He's close behind her but not touching her.

Hardison's attention shifts to Eliot. She realizes she's still holding his arm and quickly lets go.

They go down the rest of the stairs without any other trouble.

~

In the parking lot, Hardison hands her the keys to a white van. She gets into the driver's seat and it feels comfortable, natural.

He climbs into the back and Eliot sits in the passenger seat next to her. She can feel him watching her. Her hands find the right places on the steering wheel.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Eliot asks.

Her arm is hurting still and she can feel a pounding in her head that matches the beat of her heart. She answers by starting the engine.

Driving is only hard when she tries to think about it. Her body knows what to do if she doesn't get in the way.

Eliot gives her directions. His body is tense. She can tell, somehow, that he's ready to take over if she can't do this. That's comforting in a weird way. He's letting her try but they'll still be okay if she can't do it.

She wants to drive fast, to fly down the road. But there's traffic and she keeps having to change lanes or get ready to turn. So she matches the other cars for speed. She'll go fast another time.

It's strange to think about the future when she can't remember the past.

When she stops the van outside their destination, Eliot lets out a deep breath. She smiles at him. “Told you I could do it,” she says, full of triumph.

He scoffs and turns to her. “Parker, you always...” He trails off, looking at her. He isn't smiling. Is he sad now? She doesn't know what to do.

“Let's go in,” Eliot says and opens his door.

Hardison is already at the door of the brewpub when she climbs out of the van. “Great job,” he tells her. “Slower than usual which is all to the good considering.”

“Faster is better,” she says.

Hardison shakes his head. “That's like your motto, babe. You should get T-shirts made.” He holds the door open for her, even though she could have opened it herself.

Inside, there aren't any customers. People in aprons are taking chairs down off the tables. They look up as she walks in. One of them drops the chair she's holding and calls out, “Parker! Oh my god, are you okay?”

Another person calling her Parker. She doesn't remember her name. She might as well accept this one.

The girl runs up to Parker, like she's going to hug her. Parker steps back and bumps into Hardison. She flinches away from him. The girl stops short.

“Amy,” Hardison says. “Parker isn't feeling great. Would you mind getting her some water?”

Amy nods and rushes away. The rest of the people in aprons go back to what they were doing but they keep looking over at her.

“Over here,” Hardison says. He leads Parker to a booth near the back, by two doors that both say 'Staff' on them. One of the doors is constantly in use and she glimpses ovens and gleaming counters full of food when it's open.

Eliot passes them and says, “I'll go get the first aid kit.” He goes through the other staff door.

Hardison glances at Parker. “You okay?” he asks.

She realizes her whole body is tense. She's clutching her arm like she did in the hospital, when she was running.

Hardison sits down at the booth. Parker doesn't want to sit so she leans a little against the edge of the bench seat on the opposite side. Her back is to the rest of the restaurant but she doesn't want to turn away from Hardison.

“I can't even _imagine_ how scary this must be for you,” he says.

Amy opens the kitchen door then and saves Parker from trying to answer. “Here you go,” she says, putting a glass of water down on the table. “Do you need anything else?” Her eyes flick up to Parker's forehead and she remembers the bandages there.

“No,” Parker says. She doesn't know what she could even ask Amy for.

“Thanks,” Hardison says.

Amy stands there awkwardly for a moment and then goes back into the kitchen. Eliot comes back, carrying a white box with a red cross on it.

Hardison jumps up. “I'll just go look up some stuff,” he says. He nudges Eliot with his elbow as he passes him and Eliot nudges him back.

Eliot puts the box down on the table and slides into the booth where Hardison was. “Come over on this side,” he says to Parker.

She perches on the edge of the bench seat and rolls up the sleeve on her hurt arm. It's better having her back to a wall.

Eliot says, “I'm going to have to clean it. It's going to sting, okay?”

“Okay,” Parker says.

It _does_ sting and she flinches involuntarily. Eliot winces a little. His hands are gentle. He puts a gauze pad down on the wound.

“I'm sorry I grabbed you when you woke up,” Eliot says, wrapping the bandage around the gauze. It feels like he knows what he's doing. “I didn't want you to hurt yourself.”

“I did anyway,” Parker says.

Eliot sighs. “I shouldn't have done it. Sometimes it'll ground you though. You usually...” He trails off.

“What?” Parker asks. She wants him to keep talking. He has a good voice when he isn't yelling. Maybe she'd even not mind the yelling if they knew each other better. If she knew him better.

“You usually like holding onto us after a bad dream,” Eliot says. He sighs again. “We should talk to a doctor, I don't know if we should be telling you stuff about yourself.”

Maybe _this_ is the bad dream. Parker can't imagine wanting to hold on to somebody after waking up scared.

Eliot finishes securing the bandage. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks.

Her hands go to her forehead. The bandages there still seem firmly attached, in spite of everything.

Eliot frowns. “I don't want to touch those until we have to change them. And they aren't leaking or anything. How's your head feel?”

“It hurts,” Parker says.

Eliot takes a pill bottle out of the first aid kit. “Do you want a painkiller?” he asks.

Parker hesitates but she isn't sure why. Painkillers would help. “No,” she says. She needs to trust her instincts. They've gotten her this far.

Eliot puts the bottle back. “Okay, how about some food? You can watch me make it if you want.”

That sounds better. Parker nods.

“We can go upstairs,” Eliot says, nodding towards the staff door Hardison went through. “Or we can close the brewpub and take over the kitchen.”

“Upstairs,” Parker says. She wants to get away from the strangers looking at her.

Eliot follows her through the door. She stops a few steps into the room. The ceiling is so high. She stares up at it, wondering why the height matters to her.

Finally, she keeps going, up the stairs on the far side of the room. They don't circle around a hole in the building like the hospital stairs. When she gets to the top, she sees the ceiling in this upper floor is high too. It's a nice open layout, with a kitchen almost as big as the one downstairs and a living room with three couches.

Hardison is sitting in the living room in front of at least four computers, typing and muttering to himself. He doesn't look up when Parker and Eliot come in.

Parker walks over and peers at the screens over Hardison's shoulder. He seems to be looking up information about the types of amnesia and deleting hospital security footage, as well as doing something with code that Parker can't read.

“I can form new memories,” she says, pointing at the 'anterograde amnesia' section.

Hardison yelps and whirls his chair around. Parker leaps back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hardison pants. “Just startled me, it's okay.” He holds his hands palms out. She isn't sure what he wants her to do back so she just stands still.

Eliot calls from the kitchen, “Anything in particular you want to eat, Parker?”

She doesn't know what kind of food she likes. Her head hurts more now. She cradles her hurt arm against her chest and doesn't answer.

Hardison says, “Eliot makes great food.” In a quieter voice, like he's telling Parker a secret, he says, “He'll even let you sit on the counter if you want.”

“I heard that,” Eliot says.

Hardison smiles at her. Parker manages a little smile back.

Eliot _does_ let her sit on the counter. He starts humming while he cooks. Parker takes bits of food when he isn't looking. It's for her anyway.

She doesn't realize how relaxed she is until she starts getting sleepy. By the time Eliot presents her with a finished plate of food, she can barely keep her eyes open.

“Want to have a nap on the couch?” Eliot asks.

Parker shakes her head but doesn't take the offered food. He sets it down next to her on the counter. She pulls her feet up under her and leans against the wall.

She isn't sure if she actually falls asleep or not. It just seems like time passes more quickly while she's sitting there. Eliot and Hardison talk together quietly while they eat in the living room. Hardison makes a phone call.

When the pain in her head gets worse, Parker gets down off the counter and curls up into a corner of an empty couch. Neither Eliot nor Hardison try to talk to her, but they glance over at her and smile when she looks at them. It's strange how nice it is to be in their space. She tries not to think.

The light fades outside as the sun goes down. Hardison shows Parker where the bathroom is, and the guest bedroom. She sees a truly huge bed in the main bedroom and she wonders if all three of them sleep there usually.

She changes into the pajamas they give her. She even lies down in the guest bed for a few minutes but it's uncomfortable. She's restless but too tired to move around much. She goes back out to the living room but it isn't peaceful like before.

She hovers by the open door of the main bedroom. Eliot and Hardison are both in the bed, and there's definitely room for another person in there. She turns away, feeling awkward and wrong.

There are more stairs she didn't see before. They lead up to a roof with a low wall around it and a little garden in the centre. The night air is cold. It wakes her up a little.

What is she doing here? The person Hardison and Eliot know isn't her, not anymore. She's been pretending, following along. Can she be who they want her to be?

They've given her space and food and somewhere to go, but what can she give them when she's like this?

She sits down on the cold stone wall. The city is lit up around her. Cars crawl around below and she can hear music and bursts of noise. It's alive. She shivers.

“Parker?” someone calls softly.

She freezes.

“Parker? Are you out here?” It's Hardison. The light from the stairwell shines behind him.

She doesn't answer and he must not be able to see her because she hears him say, “No, and I already checked the brewpub. I think she's gone, El.”

Another shorter shape joins him in the open doorway. “Then we'll find her,” Eliot says.

Their shapes blend into one. “I can't track her,” Hardison says. He sounds so unhappy. “I never could, El, but I especially can't when she's—” He stops talking.

Parker can't stand it. “I'm here,” she says.

“Parker?” Eliot asks.

She stands up. “I'm here, you don't have to look for me,” she says.

They both leave the doorway and walk over to her. “But I'm not really here,” she says, before they can say anything kind. “I can't remember anything so it's like I'm not really Parker.”

“We'll figure this out,” Hardison says.

“We'd do anything for you,” Eliot says, softly.

Her heart hurts. Her hands shake, not just from the cold. She reaches out to them. She has to trust her instincts.

Their hands are warm around hers. It isn't bad at all to hold on to them in the dark.

~

When Parker wakes up in the morning, her head still hurts. Her arm is still sore. But the world feels more solid and real.

She looks around the familiar living room that seemed so strange yesterday. Hardison is asleep next to her on the couch but Eliot's already up and doing his meditation. She watches him sit and breathe for a long time.

“I love you too,” she says, when he's opened his eyes and seen her. Parker laughs as Eliot's mouth drops open in surprise. She can read his face so easily now. She has all of his expressions memorized.

“How are you feeling?” Eliot asks quietly.

“I'm back,” she says. Hardison stirs beside her and she leans over to kiss him. He opens his eyes and she can see all his surprise too.

Eliot is at her side in a moment. She stands up and hugs him. It feels so good.

“What's happening?” Hardison asks, sitting up.

“I'm back,” Parker tells him from Eliot's arms.

Hardison hugs both of them at once then, and Parker's never been so glad to be home.


End file.
